


Shadows in the Torchlight.

by whimsicalmuse



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dominic Watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows in the Torchlight.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shirasade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasade/gifts).



> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).
> 
> \---
> 
> A/N: Birthday Drabble for Shirasade.

“Bill, you sure about this?”

Lord knows he isn’t. The linen is scratchy where it once was soft, the bright yellow of his vest, once loose, is now confining, though it hangs around his mid-section effortlessly.

“Yes. Turn around.”

Dominic hesitates, long hands toying with the thick fabric of dark green pants, which are smooth against his fingertips.

“We could get caught.”

Blue-grey eyes peer over his shoulder nervously, his pulse racing at the sound of every raised voice, every melodious bubble of laughter that carries over to them.

“We won’t.”

Billy’s cold fingers are tugging, tearing, pulling the braces away and down, while the other hand rests against the wall. His hands are sure, and his nails are cut even and are, as usual, very clean, unlike Dominic’s which at any given moment, might have black nail polish, blue ink, or food, crammed deep in the nail bed.

“How-how do you know we won’t get caught?”

He turns his head as far as he can manage, his ears picking up the soft rustle of clothes, though they are covered in a prosthetic. He swallows, when Billy’s hand rests firmly on his hip. Billy’s so calm it’s as if they’ve always done this. He stares at the wall, looking at their shadows created by the torch light flickering on the other side of the tent--their only source of privacy. Billy slides into Dominic without warning, and barely any preparation.

“Because you’ll not make one noise Merry-mine.”

A cool hand wraps around his aching heat, and his hiss mirrors Billy’s, as their bodies rock together. The sounds of the band, the children running, and the animated chatter of the party fades away, and all Dominic can hear is the sound of Billy’s breathing, in, out, in, in perfect sync with his own. He watches their shadows in the torchlight.


End file.
